Dap Takes Down a Government
by Dapthedestroyer
Summary: Dap is lost in Rapture, having been given an Adam recycling slug. She fights to get rid of it, return to the surface, and be as normal as can be. But different factions such as the Big Sisters, a mafia, and a medicinal group vie over control of her.
1. When Weakness Becomes Your Advantage

"She probably won't make it."

"What makes you say that?"

"The procedure was made for child females, the purest of vessels."

"She's learned, of good, of bad, or what we call brains. Cut 'er up, add the bug, and she'll want it out it's too late. The girl might even cause an uproar."

"With all that Adam,"

"I've created a monster."

"No, Tennenbaum's the one who started it, you just gave it power."

"It's waking up! Grab some Equipment and let's go!"

Chp. 1 When Weakness Becomes Your Advantage

The cold sweat covering her body was alien to Dap. She sat up, shaking her head from the shock of almost drowning. Why else was she in a hospital gown, in a hospital?

The gurneys across the hall were covered in what looked like blood. Something maybe in her gut told her it wasn't. They were old, for the blood had started to thickened and become brown stains.

Dap looked around. No one else was there. Not even another patient, or nurse to tell her why she had bandages around her waist.

"Well," she muttered, "I guess it's just you and me gurney."

"You could say that."

Dap let out an eep, which was accompanied with a loud crashing sound. A man wearing a surgeon's outfit and sharp claws that looked like coat hangers for his hands and feet, his smile creaped past the mask came toward her.

"So you're the first one to have a mind huh? I don't suppose you've any Adam on you?" rubbing his coat hanger hands together.

"What," Dap began inching away from the stranger, "Are you trying to mug me or something?"

He threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't pretty, it switched pitches, and the breath he took in seemed more like a whistle, "Mug you? You must be that fish the Big Daddy brought in. You can't possibly got any on you. Right now."

The man grunted as he jumped on top of another gurney and pulled his way through the ceiling.

Dap sat on her gurney putting an arm around her stomach and the other to hold on to the blood stained blanket on which she sat upon.

Big Daddy, Adam, what the hell was he talking about? I guess I did almost drown she thought, yet her gut continues to churn rapidly, causing her to fret about it.

Where were her clothes? Her lab coat, neutral faced shirt with fangs, and her pants were gone, the only things covering her were her undergarments and the weirdo floppy hospital gown they give patients.

She grabbed for the Ank sign that hung from a chain around her neck. The cool metal began stealing the heat from her fingers. This calmed the feeling in her stomach, allowing her to breath slowly and regain thought.

What the hell, she thought, what kind of hospital had no nurses, a messed up surgeon, and had fucking holes in the ceiling? Where am I?

Dap got off the gurney for the first time. The pain on her right side and her stomach was causing her to wince horribly with each step. It was almost unbearable, but she had to find a window, just something she could get an idea of where she was.

Every step became tougher than the last. They couldn't of done anything normal to her, for it was her side, not her lungs that hurt. Dap felt sick and dry heaved mucus and blood on ground. It was weird, she could usually stomach pain.

Dap brushed off the remains with the back of her hand. Not too far from the door now. She could make it. A smile rung her lips as her hand grasped the knob.

All her power went into pressing against the door, even though it was lighter than most, her strength almost completely gone. Dap stumbled through the doorway, her head swimming. She tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She was in a hallway, one which the ceiling curved into the arch, supporting. Glass.

Dap screamed with what little strength she had. Then she collapsed into darkness.

(Sorry it took so long, I had NO access to a single computer since the first time I published this. I'm up to page 101, and have gone back and hacked parts and added more in a sense of old likings dieing, and new ones arising. I hope this shall keep you occupied until the next (longer) chapter.)(Chapters written so far= 11, most likely ending at 20+ due to the many open plot holes I haven't considered)


	2. A Doctor Sees To His Patient And

Chp. 2 A Doctor Sees to His Patient And the Magician Unravels the Questions

The darkness swept around her, that sister which wasn't big or small. She lay, blankly staring upward toward the glass that acted as a cell, rather than a deterrent of the pressure of the deep sea water.

Dr. Starling, of the broken down health clinic, peaked through the grating of the hanging duct above. The patient, a sixteen year-old female, the first sister to have an uncontrolled mind.

This was a great discovery, and the great doctor Starling wasn't going to allow this little ballerina out of his sight. She needed to be experimented on until she had more Adam, her life needed to be protected.

Few splicers entered the hospital area, they only had to drink off an injury, or be able to hack, steal, or even purchase a medical kit. Serious injuries usually lead to death, so there was no more need of doctors like Starling, leaving the medical area relatively empty. But they checked in to scavenge chems and or two began walking up the hall toward the girl, yet they never caught of glimpse, for a maniacal laughter later, they laid with blood encircling them upon the floor, thanks to Starling.

After an hour or so of watching, he found that this would be extremely boring. He did not know of how severe her faint had been. Who knew if she'd even get up again?

In the distance, Dr. Starling heard the loud thumping of a Big Daddy. He had to run away at the risk of either him or the girl being severely injured or even killed.

Taking his position above the area, the Big Daddy was unable to see the doctor at all. The golem had just reached the position at which the subject seemed to be questioning if this girl who, yet having the ability and eyes, was older and didn't have the outfit.

The drill that was the replacement for its left hand, poked at her arm. The girl squirmed in her state of health, moaning as her skin was skewered by it. Little blood drained from the wound, for her skin had replaced the damaged cells.

This was good enough for the Big Daddy, who grabbed the girl and slung her over his shoulder and began walking away.

"No! This can't be happening!" Starling shouted, kicking angrily at the vent,"That was my key to finding fortune in this hell-hole!"

* * *

Dap, who lay on the Big Daddies shoulder unconscious, gurgled blood in her spit, leaving the golems back a vibrant red. He didn't mind, this one was quiet, a nice substitute.

A Big Daddy had only one job, to keep the Little Sisters safe from harm. He didn't know why, but nothing seemed to question it before. The splicers tried to land a hand on one, bam. His/her heart beated in front of their eyes for a second or two. That was rewarding enough.

But the one slung over his shoulder was different. Her scents of pure air, of something interesting, something that filled his mind of happiness.

That difference filled his mind of pictures of the surface, where the families of the city began. Some areas were called fields, where the sky was too far to touch, yet so close.

The one on his shoulder began to stir, her hair moving along his armored side as she began looking around. The area around them was an art hall, one created by Sander Cohen. His artwork only seemed to barely grasp at the insanity of that man's mind. He was in his sculpture phase, many where just dead citizens, positioned and plastered.

She was distressed, possibly from the after realization of fainting or just being on his shoulder scared he. She squirmed, screaming, "Whatever the hell you are, I'm not going farther into hell as I am!"

Confusing, this whole predicament was getting, this little like one, seemed to be trying to escape. Even without much of her health, she tried to get away from him. He couldn't let her hurt herself beyond how she was, so. He let her go.

* * *

(found it :P)

'What the hell was that? That... thing drug me even further into this freaked up muesum. Possibly to kill me!' Dap sat within an air vent, just far enough to be sure this diving suit man couldn't reach her. But other than that she was pretty much frightened for once in her life. All the reasonable questions like, why, how, and even when she was dragged down her, were vacant from her mind. The pain she had felt before was lighter, but still evident.

The monster had moved her so much further into this ... place. Her ears rang so badly and there was no way to escape it. Trapped on the bottom of the sea with psychopaths and diving suit wearing men with giant drills.

The sadness soon seeped in, but something began to lift the glum attitude. The sound of a piano, no too far away, maybe at the other end of the vent she was hiding in. The pianist seemed to be flying through the music so quickly, so beautifully, that she just sat there and listened to it. The ringing began to subside, her ears adjusting the pressure.

When the piano player came to about the end, they played a crude note. This caused the player to throw their hands upon the keys, kick the bench that they were sitting on over, and leave.

Dap wondered what this music player had written, seeing as she had once studied in the piano when she was longer. And possibly why the player hadn't tried staying around to fix the problem. She inched forward, her knees and hands scrapping against the inside of the vent. It wasn't too loud, but who knew if they could hear the sound of an underweight teenager, scuffling about in the ventalation.

Unscrewing the vent opening, Dap found herself in a room filled with half made sculptures, which, stomach turning, was that of unliving people put into various poses covered in cement. But the piano, with it's over turned bench, seemed to be centered there in the room.

The enormous piano back was opened, allowing the strings to touch the air and sing out loud like they should. The black, shinned paint allowed you to play, yet stare back at yourself, was breath taking.

Dap grabbed the bench and sat on it. The bench was huge and could probably hold two or even three pianists at a time. She picked up the sheet music that lay on the fifth page and began flipping through it. Sander Cohen's Masterpiece it had been labeled in the fanciest of writing.

Tapping a few keys, Dap stared over her shoulder if the entity of the mystery pianist would notice. She waited for well over half an hour without the person returning to the room.

She began pumping the music out of the instrument. It didn't come out as beautiful as the man before her. At least the tune seemed to come out.

She got close to the end, only pausing enough to where the other had messed up. The note on the page was written incorrectly, the key on the bar had created this problem, an accidental flat wasn't accompaning the note. A pencil lay on the stand, which Dap grabbed and wrote in the accidental on the page.

Now she played again from the beginning, this time more elegantly. It didn't hold a can of Dr. Pepper to the mysterious pianist, but it was good enough to mechanically play through.

"Excellent work, little angel! I had forgotten that little error."

Dap turned around, finding a man dressed in the finest of clothing, yet hiding his face behind a rabbit mask. Dap still had her hospital gown on, soaked in blood and dirtied. She was somewhat frozen to the spot, seeing as she didn't know what to do.

"I've been waiting for someon like you to join me here in Fort Frollic."

Something about this man gave the feeling, no the sensation, that everything was okay. Or that was just Dap's insane part of her mind, always finding comfort in being around others like her.

"Who are you?" Dap felt almost rude for asking.

"My manners don't seem to be in order," he threw his hands into the air, where flaming confetti came down from the ceiling, burning away before touching the ground. "I am Sander Cohen! Best musician, artist, and genuis mind in all of Rapture!"

Dap giggled, "Glad to meet someone who makes sense. I'm Dap," She put out her hand.

"Anything for a fan."

Sander took his seat beside her, cracked his knuckles, and began to play. His fingers flew across the keys, he couldn't be stopped from pounding out his song. He passed the flat and finished, bowing to the fake audience fo sculptures.

Dap clapped so hard her stomach began to throb. First it was bearable, then it grew immense. She fell off the bench grabbing her side. This was th breach in the fake reality of easiness. Dap began moaning as she lost control of her non-existant lunch.

"The slug is hungry. You must feel terrible," Sander Cohen got up and was now kneeling next to her staring into her eyes, or so Dap thought.

"A... slug? In my stomach! I've had one of those fly larvae things in my skin, but it usually fed itself!" This joke intensified the feeling, "What the hell is going on here?"

Cohen looked around, probably thinking to himself, of what... who knew? "Wait here, I'll go get something," the magician left, leaving Dap to twist and turn in agony in the small room. As he re-entered the room, he had a sandwhich with tuna in it, along with a glass of what looked like something red. He held out the plate and then the glass as Dap munched on the sandwich.

"I don't see how that's going to help me. If I got a parasite, why not remove it?"

"No! If I was to remove that, it would cause you to perish." An awkward silence followed, "So... How are you feeling now?"

Dap had just swallowed down the entire glass of tastless juice. Suddenly, the feeling in her stomach was quelled. "What the heck did you put into this, it tasted kinda like you didn't add sugar."

He held out his hand. His wrist was obscurred by a cloth that had been torn from something. It had begun turning red.

Dap sputtered, then began coughing as hard as she could, "Bloooood! What the heck are you trying to do? Make me a vampire?"

"You should be quite gracious I allowed my Adam to you, seeing as you're such a strange person to meet down here." He looked at Dap for awhile staring at her stomach, where the stain of blood was, then to her feet, which were freezing since she was mainly barefoot. "You're not from here, are you?"

"How'd you geuss, from the fact I ran up to you, even seeing as you've cemented all those people out there and here?"

"..." Sander thought to himself something for awhile. To the great dissatisfaction to Dap, for he didn't clue her in on why he kept staring at her and then up to the ceiling. "Well, I geuss it's better than anyone else down here to get cooked up to be a little one. They'd turn into Adam savouring monsters from the thought of what they could gain."

"Wait," Dap put up her hands, "What do you mean by Adam and 'little ones'?"

He stood, grabbed a hold of the bench in one hand and sat down on it. "That slug in you recycles Adam, a pure of substance of power. In a sense, without it, there wouldn't be Adam, and without either, there wouldn't be Little Sisters, or Big Daddies, or Splicers, or Anarchy! Sweet Anarchy!"

"Sooo... I'm stuck like this?"

"Yes... pretty much. You'll be just another Little Sis, following the Big Daddies and living your life until someone pops your little stomach open." Sander thought of what he said.

"What's a Big Daddy?" Dap repeated, becoming somewhat irretable.

"Some call them Gollems, but you'll agree the name fits. The diving suits with no other purpose but to protect the ones that carry the slug. The Big Daddy is the one thing between a Splicer and more Adam," he pointed at her stomach.

"So... It saved me?" She looked down at the floor, a puddle of water had gathered from somewhere and the reflection stared back up at her. But it wasn't right. A los tface, one that stole her own, but left a houl straight to its soul. Through her eyes.

"I see you've noticed your eyes. They are one of the many differences between someone who does and those who doesn't hold the slug."

"Why," Dap tried not to cry, for fear of what, if anything, would come out, "Why didn't you say anything about... These?"

"I sort of thought you knew already."

"Well, what do you hide behind your mask then?" She reached up toward his face, took the mask in her hands and tugged on it. It ripped off and bellow was a very average face with pale white make-up and a mustache. His green eyes, now being more free than behind the mask, sliced into Dap.

He grabbed back the mask, "I should ask you to leave, but..." He thought of his response with perused lips, "But you're helpless without me. Please, just, don't act like a bitch from now on. This place is already full of those." He didn't put back on the mask, but held it in front of him, lost to his thoughts.

"I'm, sorry. I'm, just kind of flustered." She let out

"It's already happened. Just let me think of something." He began to look around around the room until he saw a poster. It read 'Come see the greatest musician, Sander Cohen, as he plays Synthetic Wishes!'

Another sharp pain in her stomach occured. This time it was quick, but color began to fade from her view. Everything was black and white. Dap tried to scream out to Sander, who began to fade away himself, but nothing came out.

(Chp. 3 should get started Friday, or sometime after that)


	3. The Past Never Changes

Chp. 3 The Past Never Changes

Dap had stopped screaming, for nothing came out. Was she suffering some side effect, going deaf and color blind to the slug? Why wasn't Sander there? Why did she care about a complete stranger?

In response to these questions, she saw what looked to be Cohen, coming into the room. But he too was dark in a black and white sense. And he wasn't wearing his mask. He seemed so happy, not caring for the girl who sat on the floor. He strode in, almost cereaning into Dap, until a voice called out, "Mister Cohen, ten minutes to curtian." It had come from a speaker system that ran through the room and out again.

That wasn't there before, and the sculptures weren't there. The room could now be recongnized as a practice room, so clean, and new.

The past, Dap had somehow been brought back to the past. Why, why now, why couldn't she talk... just why? Everything was getting annoyingly agonizing, everything didn't meld the right way.

Cohen looked at his watch, muttered to himself, adjusted the time to the clock on the wall, then walked straight through Dap. She felt... nothing and he didn't seem to know anything had just occured.

He picked up some sheet music off the stand beside the piano that too long ago they had met at.

He began running from the room, once again passing through Dap. She needed to follow him, not like she was just going to sit there and do notihing.

Dap picked herself up, her energy having returned. Exiting the room, she found herself in a flood of people. The rich, the smart, the artist, and the musician, all swarmed around her. Each passed through her, Dap shivering from the feeling that they shouldn't. There wasn't even a sign that Sander had passed through.

So she followed, something she hated the most. The ability for thought seemed to be lost over the thought of doing what everyone else was doing. But there was nothing more she could do, and everyone moved toward the same goal.

The motion of the group was choppy, but she began to follow a very tall snooty man wearing a tuxedo. She looked toward the wall or glass equilivent, where Dap searched for her shadow. Rather than finding it, she saw a group of fish, almost following along with them, not knowing where they were going, but following the one in front of them.

The speakers once againblared as the group continued, "Little Sisters are the asset of Rapture. And for our assets, we send out our top people to watch over. Big Daddies, their protectors, yours. Paid by Fontain's Home for Little Sisters."

Soon the group became a line, at the end was an elevator. A load would go up and then it would come back down empty, then it would fill up to the brim again. Whatever this was, it seemed popular.

Dap stepped on, stuck behind a pregnant woman and a fisherman. It didn't take long, but everyone stepped out, searching for somewhere to sit and rest.

At the top another anouncement played over the speakers, this time it was Sander Cohen himself, "Welcome all! I'm glas to introduce you to the first bit of talent to grace this side of Rapture!"

Some of the many people audibly voiced their disapproval as they went off to listen to whatever Cohen had created. The room was a theatre with enough room to allow about seventy or so individuals in. Cohen stood on stage, rambling on over the thought process it took to write music.

A single seat remained, a reserved sign sat on it, sulking almost at the front of the theatre. Dap looked around, no one else around her was missing their seat. She sat down in it, knowing no one could see her, something in her knew it was still wrong.

"And now!" Cohen smiled really hard, "Synthetic Wishes shall grace your very ears." Sander stepped away from the microphone and sat on an even more amazing piano, which he began playing a song that seemed to pronounce itself.

So beautiful, it floated through the air, until. Another foul note hit the air in the middle of the song. Sander stopped, blushing, unable to think of what next to do. The audience, however, knew exactly what they were gonna do.

Many stood up and booed. Anger from the crowd around her was flung from the audience toward the man, his face turned away, his hands still levitating over the keys.

He stood, his eyes burning into the stands. Sander's eyes locked on to Dap, yet she knew that these eyes before her stared, longingly, at an empty seat.

Cohen screamed, then launched toward the first person he saw. Grabbing this random man's face and neck, the man screamed. The horrible stench of burnt flesh met everyones noses.

Then, everyone ran. Women were crying from the sight, men were screaming only in fear. Sander got five more people before most escaped, until the only living people were him and Dap. These burnt corpses strewn across the stage kinda derserved this, yet it still seemed a little harsh.

The way it smelt, the way it seemed to make the rest of the world fade, the way it clung to you. That mirror in the center of the room, the rickety stair case that led to upstairs behind. That... room.

"Little angel? Are you okay!" Dap realized that Cohen was know standing before her, waving a hand before her face, the other holding a band-aid. "Dap?"

"Mr. Cohen, what just happened? I was in your memories or something." Dap shifted her weight in the now colored room of the theatre, "Who was it you looked for here?"

Sander drop the bandage and bit his lip. Tears were illuminated on his face from the strange lighting and his white make up. A few moments passed and they both just stared at each other.

Finnally Sander threw out his arms and wrapped them around Dap, who cowered in his grip after seeing his past acts. He kept on hugging her, while she wondered if this was the time to discontinue her relation with the man. "She did make it," He breathed. And he let her drop to her feet again.

"Wait, who?"

He looked around, "Um, I meant to say that you did get through... it." Sander smiled until he saw Dap frowning at him.

"So, what was that? Was I really in your past or what?"

"It was an Adam Induced Past Expereance of my own past. My Adam has written down my past, as I passed it on to you, it also passed my story on to you." He now sat down on one of the many seats that weren't entirely destroyed and looked around.

The stage on which looked now bare without the grand piano it once held, now stood a single microphone. The big red curtains were gone, having been torn off their poles. "It's hard to look at your past. You always wonder- what it did to make you this way. Did it ruin you and others? How long you lost sight on your goals. What some of your goals had even BEEN!"

Dap looked down, it was weird. Someone who'd also lost sight of things, changed for the worse by taking the wrong path or something. "I used to want to be an artist. I could draw much better than most people I knew, but. I just stopped. I almost forgot about it until I met Romance. He helped me remember." She looked at her right hand. Pale white. Like she remembered it.

"Dap?" Sander gulped in some air, "What was your family like, did you have one?"

She looked at Cohen for awhile. What an odd question he could ask, not 'even a how are you' or something pleseant, "I don't really know, I've lived most of my life away from people as much as I could. I'm sure if I did have a family, I ran real early on in my life. Who knows, they could be looking for me or something."

He sighed, nothing else seemed needed to be said. He began to put his hand in his trouser pocket to pull out a packaged cigar, which he lit with a snap of fingers.

"I want to watch this place BURN! Kinda hard to see, being that we're underwater and all. All this place is is a cesspool. Filled to the brim with dead dreams and crushed hope being pushed by zombies." He removed the cigar from his lips and took care of the ashes, "I'm a visionary, not much of a guy to do anything. That ass Andrew Ryans running this place into a trench, and still acts as if he's king!" At this, he laughed, "Anarchy must of hit Rapture a year ago!"

Dap looked back toward the stage. Had she smelt something? "Rapture, that's what this place is called?" she asked, having given up on the thought.

"HAH! You're standing in it!" he rose his arms fingding that being tough due to a nagging feeling. "The one place that where morals, sensoring, and government were a thing of the past! Yes, but every society needs 'direction'."

"Fuck power! I should be allowed to do exactly what I want to do on my own morals and what I think is right!" Dap stomped her foot on the floor, a loud slapping noise rising from it. She lifted her bare foot to find it had landed in a pool of blood. The sound of it dripping from the ceiling was followed by the sound of soft humming of an old tune sounding song.

"That's a little one," Sander pointed up to the gratting with his cigar, "The way most little girls ended up. You can't get less human than that!" He stopped finding that was very offensive to say to Dap. "I mean, those slugs and doctors don't mix. They both screwed around with those things and make them walking adam factories." He dropped his cigar into the ever growing pool of blood.

"The Big Daddies. They're kinda freaky. And they smell repulsive, even worse than rotting fish!" she grabbed at her nose as on of them passed over the gratting to retrieve its Little Sister.

"They didn't mess with your head at all then, huh?... well not yet. Most of those things smell those big guys and won't leave their side. You should be glad that golem found you, or you would of been splicer food!"

"Splicer?" Dap twisted her head. So much to learn, yet something told her that Cohen didn't have all of her answers.

"Anyone with an ounce of Adam on them. I am a Houdini Splicer, the ability to disappear, then reappear somewhere else." He stood up, arms above his head, "Just watch!"

With a blink of the eye, he burst into a pile of flamming confetti. There was no way to tell where he was going, just that he'd be somewhere. Dap frantically searched the room with her eyes.

A loud, somewhat whale like scream filled the theatre. She turned around, the microphone from the stage nearly missing her. A Big Daddy, it's smell punctuating the room, had stumbled on stage. It's right hand was a drill, which it had started to rev up.

A scream escaped Dap. It was going to kill her now. She stopped suddenly when a hand covered her mouth causing her to gasp. "Shush! It thinks I'm trying to kill you!"

And you think holding me like this suspends that thought? She angerly thought to herself. But before her eyes she saw the world go hazy, what was left to the world was dimmer and stopped moving. The Big Daddy had ended up stuck with its arm above its head, glarring toward them.

"We must move quickly," Sander let his hand over Dap's mouth fall to his side, "I don't know how long I can hold this. We have to get moving now."

Dap nodded her head, finding that he hadn't let go of her arm. They turned around and ran to the exit of the theatre. But it led int another room, which would lead to another. There wouldn't be anywhere to hide. They were trapped.


	4. Acceptance Comes At A Price

Chapter 4. Acceptance Comes At a Price

Footsteps echoed down the tube way, slow. This single person walked softly, but was too heavy to have this work to his advantage. He felt the Adam coursing through his veins and smiled. He didn't know a single other splicer who'd try and pick a fight with him.

His mind wondered easily away from why he decided to venture down this particular tube way. He stopped in his tracks and scratched at his bald head. This would take him forever to remember.

He became frustrated and punched his fist into the glass that protected him from being shark food. His hand was now stuck outside. The primal creature screeched as it pulled back its arm, his hand stinging from the salt water entering his bleeding cuts.

Water began flowing through the puncture in the glass and quickly covered the ground.

"Fuck! Why I do that?" he growled as he ran out of the tunnel. The Securis door closed behind him, the lock on it automatically clicked. He had now stumbled into an office

Certain chairs had been pushed over, others were ripped to pieces and stretched across the floor. The door across the room had a telecom next to it. The incredible monster walked toward it, his eyes lighting up, actually realizing why he had made his journey.

He stuck out a sausage finger and lightly pressed the button, pushing his mouth almost entirely on to the speaker, "BOSS! What was I doing again?" He paused waiting for only a few seconds, as if the speaker would speak back automatically, "Boss?"

The door adjacent to the Brute burst open, an average size and weight man came out, puffing at the remains of a brand name cigar, savoring the taste, "How many time do I HAVE TO TELL YOU, NUMBSKULL!" He yelled in a long Island accent at the now cowering Brute. "I send you one ONE trip to round up a girl, and I get you at my doorstep like a lost dog!"

The large man scuffed his torn shoe on the floor, "But I just can't remember sometimes..."

"Fine," the well suited man exasperated, "I'll tell you one last time," He dropped the butt of the cigar to fall on the ground, which he went to smother it with his shoe. "You see this girl, she's not from around these parts. You'll spot here easily." He tried articulating each word, in hopes that his lackey would catch on this time.

"She's not alone though, she's with one of those Big guys, but I've seen you rip one right in half, you'll do fine."

The Brute thought for a moment and nodded, "Okay boss, this girl ain't hard to get, and she's different, I can find her by smell. She'll be easy!" He stuck a finger at himself, beaming proudly. "I go NOW! Save time!" He ran off, the hall shaking as he began running toward his next objective.

The man sighed, and took another cigar out of a half empty box. "One day, I need to put that boy down. No good," he paused, thinking of something, "Damn shame all of the Adam I wasted on him. The boy was half decent when his mind wasn't in the shit house."

He shook his head and went back to his office, smoke left behind evaporated into the air as if the meeting hadn't even occurred.


End file.
